The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Monday, January 09, 2012

waiter pardon me but there's an irish times in my chateau

Wandered into the Chateau late of an evening.
Doctor Barn had been visiting.
When I entered, I found the goodish doctor ensconced in an armchair in the television room.
A copy of the Irish Times was draped over the wing of his armchair.
A copy of the Irish Independent was clutched in Doctor Barn's hand.
This was too much.
A brace of anti Catholic newspapers.
In my own home.
This was much too much.
Even for an easy going preraphaelite poet like myself.
The Irish Times is famous as an anodyne atheistic Bolshevick mouthpiece which spent the Cold War rooting for the Russians.
There are not unreasonable postulations that it was being run at one stage by the KGB.
The Irish Independent is a part of Tony O'Reilly's Independent Newspapers group and although far from Bolshevick, it joins the Irish Times in an ad hoc alliance militating for abortion culture, contraceptivist culture, and life in test tubes culture.
In addition Independent Newspapers advocates an idolotrous worship of the O'Reilly family along with a hedonistic sex and drugs lifestyle to keep the citizenry quiescent.
While the Irish Times seeks to hand Ireland over to the rule of Communists or like minded rebranded atheists, or failing that Jihadi's, the Independent Group seeks to establish a return to feudalism, fostering a neo feudal level of influence for the O'Reilly family and reducing the rest of us to farm animals.
In the glorious society envisioned by the Independent group, the citizens of Ireland will have bread and sex, and will be perpetually ruled by Tony's progeny.
Both the Irish Times and Independent Newspapers are waging a kulturkampf war to destroy the Catholic Church in Ireland.
They view the dechristianisation of the nation as an essential prerequisite for the ultimate enslavement of Ireland to their own atheistic barbarisms.
But I digress.
My brother looked up as I entered the room.
I stared at the loathsome objects he was perusing.
Quickly and correctly interpreting my gaze he announced cheerily: "You can't beat the oul anti Catholic propaganda."
I nodded all grim reaperish.
"I will never understand," I told him bitterly, "why you insist on feeding the hand that bites us."


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